


The Legend

by anonymousauthorSA



Category: Original Work
Genre: Chamber Pots, Exhibitionism, Gen, Omorashi, Pee, Royalty, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousauthorSA/pseuds/anonymousauthorSA
Summary: There is a legend in my family, a story passed from father to son for many generations.  The legend states that one evening, many years ago, a king dined at this hall, and after enjoying the evening to the fullest extent, he found himself with a most urgent need...





	The Legend

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains pee. If you don't like that, please turn back now.
> 
> No sex, just pee...

A silver spoon rings delicately against a plate nearly as old as the manor itself.

Another sip of wine, and laughter bubbles from the far end.

A grey-haired Lord shifts in uncomfortably in his chair.

The young man across from me is less experienced. His face burns scarlet, his hand has been hidden beneath the table for some time.

A young wife is prattling on, oblivious to her husband's predicament.

Yet another tartlet, a glass refilled.

My own hand slips between my legs, but I stay still in my seat.

Finally, a break in the conversation:

“My love, perhaps the women have heard enough of our hunting tales.”

Our hostess rises, the women are offered music, sherry…

They are slow to leave. A forgotten purse, the last word to a red-faced husband…

Then we are only men.

The doors at the far end are opened to reveal the large drawing room with its heavy wooden furnishings.

We rise, some with more care than others.

Whispers: “Heavens, I must piss!”

Lord Matthews is openly pressing his hand between his legs, fearful of letting go, manners are damned.

The heavy doors are opened, all eyes immediately are drawn to them.

Servants bearing trays enter. Brandy, Port, imported cigarettes from the far east… Some help themselves.

“For god's sake man, I shall make a puddle!”

At last, our host steps forward. Silver spoon against brandy bowl, somewhat unnecessary…

“Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please. There is a legend which has been passed down through my family, for many generations now, which states that one evening, a great many years ago, a king dined at this hall. 

His Majesty, having enjoyed the evening's festivities to their fullest extent, came to find himself quite desperately pressed. 

Unwilling to leave his card game, yet fearful of embarrassment, the king called for a pot to be brought to him. 

With all due haste a servant arrived bearing a porcelain pot upon a silver platter, and his majesty did not hesitate to undo his flies to expose himself.

As the servant brought the pot into place between his ruler's thighs, the king began to relieve his much-abused bladder in the grandest of fashion in full view of the assembled men with no interruption to his card game.

Now, my friends, in honour of that most exalted gentleman, let us not hesitate in partaking in that ritual once more.”

As our host spoke these last words, his hands travelled down to his own flies and as he brought forth his cock a servant, who had entered unnoticed, placed a silver tray, upon which rested a porcelain pot, into place in front of the man. 

He did not hesitate for a moment as a healthy stream of piss poured from the tip of his prick and neatly into the pot.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes in bliss as he spoke again.

“Gentlemen, the time has come, I advise you now to make yourselves... comfortable.”

The doors opened again as more servants entered, each one bearing a pot.

Soon the scent of urine was heavy in the air, along with the sighs of sweet release.


End file.
